The Unfamiliar Road
by eryn-laegolas
Summary: Harry Potter AU. "You know this is going to be far from easy, right? It'll take titans to get it done." "Then we'll be Titans." /\ All Dick Grayson wants is to go through his seven years in Hogwarts like a normal, average wizard. Unfortunately for him, he's not normal – even by wizarding standards. And in his case, different can be deadly.
1. The Boy Wonder

**The Unfamiliar Road**

Harry Potter AU. "You know this is going to be far from easy, right? It'll take titans to get it done." "Then we'll be Titans." /\ All Dick Grayson wants is to go through his seven years in Hogwarts like a normal, average wizard. Unfortunately for him, he's not normal – even by wizarding standards. And in his case, different can be deadly. It's a good thing he has friends looking out for him. /\ A series of one-shots exploring their lives at Hogwarts, from their first year to their last.

* * *

**Rating**: T

**Pairing(s)**: mostly RobStar and BBRae; all depicted pairings will be canon.

**Title**: The Boy Wonder

**Summary**: In which Dick worries about his Sorting, makes new friends, and meets Kori Anders.

Once upon a time, I tried to write a novel length Harry Potter AU, but failed because… well, I kind of gave up after writing four chapters. I fell in love with the idea again a few days ago, but instead of continuing what I started, I decided to turn it into a one-shot series (of a sort – frankly, I haven't the slightest idea what this is going to morph into), a less ambitious project than what I had originally planned. I think I am more likely to finish this than the first one, no?

The premise is the same: TT characters in place of HP characters, with Dick Grayson as this story's Harry Potter. While this will follow the books and keep important plot points intact, I will change a few minor details to accommodate the Teen Titans. Rest assured, the plot of the books will stay the same.

Bear with me for the slow start. It will get better... I hope. Enjoy!

* * *

**Year One**

"_History never looks like history when you are living through it."_

―_John W. Gardner_

* * *

"There, look!"

"Where?"

"Next to that big guy – Bruce Wayne."

"Wait – you mean, _Bruce Wayne_? The _Auror_ Bruce Wayne?"

"Is it him? Is he –"

"_Dick Grayson_!"

"Oh, Merlin! It's the Boy Wonder!"

"Did you see his face?"

"Did you see his scar?"

A steady buzz of murmurs followed him from the moment he stepped beyond the barrier to platform nine and three-quarters. People lining up outside the scarlet steam engine stood on tiptoe to get a look. Some doubled back to pass him again, staring.

Dick Grayson wished they wouldn't. It was more than a little unnerving.

He was used to the stares, but being constantly under the spotlight never failed to make him uneasy. Everywhere he went, everyone's attention always seemed to land on him. He could feel their gazes at his back, following him as he walked. He saw the way their eyes flew to his forehead to catch a glimpse of the lightning-shaped scar it bore.

If his adoptive father, Bruce Wayne, was at all perturbed by the stares they were receiving, he gave no indication. Bruce had the most unflinching pokerface Dick had ever seen – honed, no doubt, by his years as an Auror. Bruce could be terrifying when he wanted to be, and Dick was sure that it was Bruce's cold, intimidating air more than Dick's fame that helped clear a path for the duo amongst the sea of people.

"All right, Dick?" Bruce asked in a gruff sort of voice.

Dick glanced at him and gave a small noncommittal shrug.

"Remember to write once you get settled in," Bruce reminded him. "Alfred will be anxious to hear how you are."

A small fond smile crossed Dick's features. "I will," he promised.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and scraping of heavy trunks.

The platform was beginning to empty. All around Dick, parents were giving last pieces of advice, swarming forward for final kisses and hugs.

Dick swallowed, becoming all too aware of the cold plunging sensation in his stomach.

_Hogwarts._

As the conductor yelled out that it was time for everyone to board the train, it suddenly hit home to Dick that he was leaving. It suddenly seemed all too soon.

He was _leaving_. He wouldn't be staying at the Manor anymore. He would be _gone_ – for nearly a whole year. He would be alone. There would be no Alfred, no Bruce, not even Jason. . . .

"What if – what if I'm not in Gryffindor?"

Dick had said it so quietly that he was surprised when Bruce stiffened next to him.

"What if you're in Slytherin, you mean," said Bruce.

Dick felt his face burn. He knew it was a stupid thing to worry about, but he couldn't help it. No matter how many times he told himself that it didn't matter, his stomach always gave a sickening jolt at the thought of being in Slytherin. He knew deep down that there was nothing wrong with Slytherins; Bruce was as Slytherin as they came, after all. But Deathstroke – Dick thought it was stupid to call him You-Know-Who – had come out of that House, as did almost every Dark Wizard after him, and Dick would no sooner leave Hogwarts altogether than be sorted in the House of his parents' murderer.

"There isn't any more magic in being a Gryffindor than there is in being a Slytherin, or being in any other House. You know that."

Dick found himself unable to meet Bruce's eyes.

"My parents were in Gryffindor," murmured Dick.

Bruce placed a gentle hand on Dick's shoulder. The man was silent for a moment, and when Dick looked up, he saw Bruce staring straight ahead, mulling over his response.

"They wouldn't have cared," Bruce said at last. "It didn't matter to them. Gryffindor or not, they would have been proud of you either way."

Dick wondered if Bruce would be proud of him too, but he knew better than to ask. Bruce had on his best mask, his pale face blank and unmoving, and not once in his life had Dick ever seen it falter.

A warning whistle sounded; the students still on the platform started hurrying onto the train.

Bruce crouched down, his face slightly below Dick's. Not for the first time, Dick marveled at how, despite not being related by blood, Bruce's eyes were so much like his own.

"Ready?" Bruce asked.

_No. No, I'm not,_ Dick thought, but he nodded anyway.

And then suddenly he was being enveloped in a bone crushing hug. Dick froze, bewildered at the unexpected show of affection from Bruce, not sure how he was supposed to react or what to say.

But Bruce whispered, so low that it almost didn't reach Dick's ears, "You'll be fine."

Dick hugged him back then. He tried to put a lot of unsaid things into the hug and perhaps Bruce understood them, because he ruffled his hair and gave him one of his rare smiles when they pulled apart.

As Dick waved goodbye, grinning at Bruce as he did, he saw from the corner of his eyes a girl with bright red hair run past him, leaping onto the rapidly filling train.

* * *

Dick watched Bruce disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Dick felt a great leap of anxiety. He didn't know what was going to happen when he reached Hogwarts.

The door of the compartment slid open and two boys came in. They couldn't have looked more different; one was short, pale and blond, the other dark-skinned and twice the former's size.

"Anyone sittin' there?" the larger boy asked, pointing at the seat opposite Dick. "Everywhere else is full."

Dick shrugged, shaking his head, and the two boys sat down. The other boy – the scrawny, blond one – glanced at Dick and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't looked.

"I'm Victor Stone, by the way," the dark boy said. "This is Gar Logan. Nice to meet you."

"Dick Grayson." He braced himself for the inevitable and was not disappointed when two pairs of eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"Are you really Dick Grayson?" The boy named Gar blurted out.

Dick shrugged, trying not to seem uncomfortable.

"I thought it was just a rumor, but – wow," Gar said, earnestly eager. "And have you really got – you know . . ."

He pointed at Dick's forehead.

Dick pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Gar stared.

"You're drooling," Victor said dryly, his elbow jabbing Gar's side, but as nonchalant as his words sounded, Victor looked just as awestruck as Gar.

Gar ignored his friend's jibe, his eyes never leaving Dick.

"So that's where You-Know-Who –?"

"Yeah," Dick said, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" Gar said eagerly.

"Well – I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," Gar said, eyes shining. "This is _so_ cool!"

He was practically bouncing on his seat. Dick tried not to fidget under his intense stare.

They sat like that for a few moments, Victor looking as though he couldn't decide between amusement and disbelief. And then–

"Can I have your autograph?"

Dick blinked, more than a little stunned, and Victor stared at his friend as though Gar had grown two heads. Gar looked the most incredulous of them all, clearly surprised that those words had come out of his mouth, and he was blushing so brightly Dick was worried he might break blood vessels.

"Uh . . . sorry?" Gar smiled sheepishly.

Victor laughed and Dick couldn't help but smile. While they had been talking, the train had sped past fields full of cows and sheep. They sat in a silence that was companionable, watching the fields and lanes flick past, until Gar pulled out some worn Exploding Snap cards. Two rounds were played by the time a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Dick bought some of everything and shared them with Gar and Victor, after a short argument on who was going to pay for all the candy and junk food. As they ate, they talked animatedly about Quidditch, each of them with wild gestures and a broad grin.

Dick didn't know a lot people, outside of Bruce, Alfred, and Jason. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Victor and Gar, eating their way through all Dick's pasties, cakes, and candies, and Dick was glad he met them.

* * *

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Grayson. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

Val Yor held out his hand to shake Dick's, but Dick didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.

* * *

When the old, frayed hat was brought out, Dick was a little surprised that he wasn't as nervous as he felt he should have been. He clapped and cheered along with the rest of the hall as the hat finished its song and bent its tip in a kind of bow to each of the four tables.

The first name that was called was "Anders, Kori". A tall girl with tanned skin and dark red hair came to the stool. Dick wondered if she was nervous, she didn't seem to be. When the hat called, loud enough for the entire hall to hear, "HUFFLEPUFF", the girl smiled brilliantly, and Dick became acutely aware of how pretty she was. She had an air of grace about her that made it seem like she was floating as she walked to the cheering table bedecked with black and yellow.

Dick's gaze lingered on her for a moment, longer than it should have, as she was engulfed in a blur of smiles and shaking hands, before he turned his attention back to the sorting, and that was that.

* * *

"Grayson, Richard!"

Whispers suddenly broke out like hissing fires all over the hall, and murmurs accompanied Dick to the stool.

"_Grayson_, did he say?"

"_The_ Richard Grayson?"

The last thing Dick saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. As he waited, he felt the horrible pit in his stomach return.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "There's plenty of talent here, a stubborn streak a mile wide . . . and a definite desire to prove yourself, how interesting. Courage, yes, and a great deal of loyalty to those you choose. A shrewd and sharp mind, I see, a strong mind – but a better heart. . . . Difficult. Very difficult. . . . What say you, young wizard?"

Dick gripped the edges of the stool and thought, _Not Slytherin, not Slytherin_.

"Not Slytherin, eh? But I really should. You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness."

In the dark of the hat, Dick looked to where the Gryffindors must have been, and thought of the table beneath the red and gold banner.

"Ah, I see," said the small voice. "You have what it takes to succeed there, no doubt about that, but you would never be great in Gryffindor – not like you would be in Slytherin."

_Not Slytherin, not Slytherin._

"No? Well, if you're sure – better be GRYFFINDOR!"

* * *

Gar was pale green by the time he took his turn, and Dick could see his friend's nervousness in every step.

The hat sat on his head for a long time. Dick watched as his friend changed from anxious to confused to restless as the time passed. When the hat announced "HUFFLEPUFF" at last, Gar walked, wobbly with relief, to the table draped in yellow and black. Dick watched as Gar was met with the usual claps and cheers, and saw the pretty red-haired girl welcome Gar with her glowing smile.

* * *

"Roth, Rachel."

The whispering began at once. Dick watched as a pale, purple-haired girl walked up to the stool. He recognized her instantly, as did everyone else in the Great Hall. The Roths were notorious followers of Deathstroke, and Trigon, probably the most infamous of all the Death Eaters, was the worst of them. Dick felt he could sympathize with Rachel – he knew what it was like to carry so much pressure and expectation on your shoulders.

"RAVENCLAW!"

The shock in the room was apparent, but it seemed to Dick that no one was more surprised than Rachel herself.

* * *

It wasn't long before "Stone, Victor" was called, and his friend joined him in the whooping crowd of red and gold.

* * *

It was a week later when Gar sat with Dick and Victor at the Gryffindor table. They drew attention from staff and students alike, but while Dick's housemates were taken aback, it didn't hold a candle to the surprise the entire school had when Kori Anders sat with Rachel Roth the day before.

They talked about Quidditch again over breakfast. Or at least Gar and Victor did. Dick was silent for most of it, with the occasional input here and there. He didn't mind it that way, and neither did Gar and Victor, so it was fine for all of them.

Gar sat with them again at lunch, and it was a few minutes later when Dick saw Kori Anders staring at them, hesitating. Dick was surprised to see her, but Gar wasn't, and he beckoned her over. Gar was his usual enthusiastic self as he greeted her.

"Hey, little lady," Victor said with a smile.

"Greetings," said Kori, her face alight with cheer that Dick blinked, a little stunned, and tried to find his bearings.

It was obvious she knew Gar and Victor as she smiled at each of them in turn, but when she turned to Dick, she faltered just a bit. Dick was expecting the usual reaction he got, the obvious amazement and awe – except he didn't get it from her.

Kori faltered not because she recognized him, Dick realized, she faltered because she didn't know him at all. It was strange, having someone not know who he was. He couldn't remember the last time he met someone who didn't recognize him.

Dick nodded at her and smiled in what he hoped was a friendly, inviting manner.

"I'm Dick Grayson," he said.

A smile sprung naturally to her face. "I am Kori Anders," she said, and she spoke with an accent Dick couldn't place. "I am pleased to meet you."

"So am I." Dick could feel his ears getting hot, but he found that he was smiling at her, genuinely pleased. He noticed for the first time how bright and green her eyes were.

Neither seemed to notice Gar's stifled laughter, or the amused look Gar and Victor shared.

Dick wondered absently why Victor had a knowing smirk on his face when Dick joined in the conversation. Dick was just answering Kori's questions about the Wizarding world, and it wasn't like Gar was doing a very good job of explaining to Kori why Muggles couldn't see Hogwarts.

* * *

So what did you think? Review and let me know!

Next chapter will be about Victor, then Kory, then Gar, then Rachel.

**Up Next:** Victor has grown up knowing he was going to be a Gryffindor. It has nothing to do with his parents or his relatives, honestly – it's just that he has always known, from the very beginning, that Gryffindor is the House for him. It doesn't take long before everyone else realizes it too.


	2. In the Home of the Brave

**Title**: In the Home of the Brave

**Summary**: Victor has grown up knowing he was going to be a Gryffindor. It has nothing to do with his parents or his relatives, honestly – it's just that he has always known, from the very beginning, that Gryffindor is the House for him. It doesn't take long before everyone else realizes it too.

So it's been more than a month. I'm really sorry this took so long.

Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed the previous chapter! I hope all of you stick with me to the end, and I hope this chapter was worth the wait.

* * *

Victor Stone had grown up knowing he was going to be a Gryffindor. It wasn't that he didn't want to be a Slytherin, or a Hufflepuff, or a Ravenclaw. It wasn't that he grew up believing he had to be a Gryffindor, or that he needed to be, or that Gryffindor was the best House there was. It was simply that he knew he was meant for Gryffindor, and anyone who knew him well could see that it was true.

It had nothing to do with his family. After all, his mother never wore dress robes that weren't some variant of Slytherin's green and silver, and his father still carried his Ravenclaw brooch wherever he went. Victor's cousins were as Hufflepuff as they can be, and his aunts and uncles were spread out among all four Houses.

His parents were never one for House discrimination. Victor grew up hearing tales of all four Houses, from their proudest achievements to their lowest points, and his parents taught him very early on to appreciate each one. He believed every word of these lessons, no matter what anyone said, and he knew that no House was greater than the others.

Victor couldn't see why most of the Wizarding world couldn't agree. He didn't understand why there were those who thought being in Hufflepuff somehow made you less the man you were, or why some believed that being a Slytherin made you inherently evil. It was ridiculous, and he thought everyone should be rolling their eyes at the inequity instead of supporting it.

So, really, it had nothing to do with favoritism or prejudice. Victor just _knew,_ ever since he had been a little boy, that he was a Gryffindor through and through.

* * *

If Victor thought about it really hard, it was easy to pinpoint when his inner Gryffindor made itself known for the first time.

Victor grew up in a village near a Muggle city. His mother, a Muggle-born, was adamant that he become familiar with Muggle customs since he was, as she was so fond of telling him (especially after his magic started to show), as much a Muggle as he was a wizard.

"Just because you have magic doesn't mean you should turn your back from your Muggle side of the family," she would say. "If you do, you are half the man you can be and half the wizard you ought to be."

Victor grew up as accustomed to the Muggle world as he was with the Wizarding world. While he spent most of his afternoons as a kid playing with the children in his village, his parents took him to several trips in the nearby city, and his mother took great pains in teaching him Muggle culture. His father, ever the Ravenclaw, was interested in Muggle ways and encouraged Victor's curiosity about the world his mother considered as much a home as the Wizarding world.

When Victor was old enough, his father had insisted that he enroll in a Muggle school. His mother, surprisingly, had been against it at first, since he was old enough to start showing signs of magic, but at that time Victor was very clear about his newfound interest in Muggle technology, and so she let it be.

This was met with confusion among the magical neighbors, and it wasn't long before it turned into gossip. Whispers about Victor having some sort of magical defect or, worse, being a squib surfaced and were hard to quell. _After all,_ the villagers said, _why would anyone bother to be like a Muggle if they had magic?_

When Victor showed that this was, in fact, not the case by impressing the village children with the occasional accidental magic, the villagers started whispering something else. _The Stones must be inept wizards_, they said, _if they're so keen on the ways of the non-magical folk_. This was by far the mildest insult and didn't sound so hurtful, but Victor knew that there were worse rumors about his parents circulating the village. He never heard them since his parents were careful in shielding him from the worst of it, but he was smart enough to know that it was worse than they led him to believe.

While his parents took the worst of all the talk, Victor wasn't left unscathed. No one seemed to want to play with him anymore. _Squib_, the other children called him (along with a variety of other names Victor would rather ignore), even though he wasn't. The few who didn't call him names weren't so keen on playing soccer or basketball or whatever Muggle game Victor tried to introduce. They ignored him when he tried to bring up something Muggle-related, so Victor learned to hide his interest.

Victor endured all the bullying and met all the insults with a thick skin. Nothing ever went beyond unkind words since the older children were kind enough to intervene before things got physical. But there were still days when he came home trying to hold back tears, and his mother would hug him and whisper in his ear how brave and noble he was as she soothed away the hurt. His father would place his hand on Victor's shoulder and crouch down so Victor could meet his eyes.

"You are twice the wizard they'll ever be, and that's all that matters," his father would tell him before Victor could look away. "You don't need magic to be a good man. Fairness and honesty and integrity – these things are more important than waving a magic wand. Remember that, okay, buddy?"

Victor did, and he never forgot.

* * *

In hindsight, it wasn't really surprising that Victor's first fight had to do with the village children. A boy a year older than him, and twice as big, had called Victor's mother a Mudblood, so Victor couldn't really bring himself to regret giving the first blow. That afternoon was the first time Victor came home with bruises, and it definitely wasn't the last.

Victor's next fight came not to long after that. Some bullies had made a scathing remark about his color and Victor found himself in a short tussle that wasn't as messy as the first. His mother made it very clear that she disapproved, but his father had patted him on the back and taught him how to defend himself the next day.

"It isn't right to pick on someone small or different just because you can," his father said when Victor had asked why he was being taught how to fight. "Everyone deserves a fair playing field, and we should give it when we can."

Soon the bullies, both Muggle and magical, learned that Victor wasn't one to be messed with. Though Victor never delivered the first blow after his first fight, it was clear that he could hold his own, and he found that he didn't have to use violence as much as he had expected to stand up for those who couldn't fight back. The older Victor got, the more brawls he found himself in, but he was also able to use words and diplomacy to stop fights before they got started.

This, Victor knew, was what made his parents proud.

* * *

When Victor received his Hogwarts letter, he was so elated that he insisted he and his parents go to Diagon Alley that same day. His parents didn't need that much convincing.

They spent that entire afternoon looking for everything he needed and more – books, robes, a new trunk. But what Victor was really looking forward to was his wand. His parents, no doubt wanting to prolong the suspense, had insisted that it had to be their last stop.

It wasn't the first time Victor had been to Diagon Alley. His parents had taken him there enough times in the past that he knew the place well enough to not get lost. He had probably been inside most of the shops at least once, and he was confident he could recognize all of the stores with just a glance.

They had just left the Apothecary when Victor's father announced at last that his wand was the only thing left on the list.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Fox's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. During past visits in Diagon Alley, Victor often found himself standing outside this store when his parents let him wander off on his own. But Victor never dared to enter – he had always been much too intimidated to come inside. After all, he had no reason to.

But now he did, and Victor couldn't hide his excitement.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as Victor and his parents stepped inside. Victor didn't know what he expected wand shops to look like, but he thought Fox's looked a lot like a dusty and ill-kept shoe shop. It was a tiny place, and stacks of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling.

There were already people inside, which made the store seem even smaller. A pretty red-haired girl about his age smiled and waved at Victor and his parents when they entered. She was probably the same height as Victor, which was surprising since he had never met anyone his age that wasn't shorter than him.

The girl's parents stood near the corner of the shop. They were a very stunning couple, tall and elegant, like a king and queen straight from a fairytale. They didn't fit in the picture of this dingy little shop, not with their statuesque profile and regal demeanor. Victor thought them haughty and proud, but they had kind, warm smiles and seemed friendly enough when Victor's parents engaged them in conversation.

"Are you going to Hogwarts too?" Victor asked the girl.

"Oh, yes!" she said cheerfully. "I have already bought most of my supplies, but I have been having trouble acquiring a suitable wand."

She seemed to deflate a little as her gaze landed on the spindly chair piled with wands. Victor wondered how many the girl had already tried.

"It seems that I have yet to find one that will respond to me," she continued with a smile, though it was obviously forced.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Victor said, trying to console her. "Sometimes it takes a while to find your wand. My mom told me it had taken her an entire day to find hers."

This seemed to cheer her up, and her crestfallen expression melted away.

"Truly?" said the girl hopefully.

"Yeah. Just gotta wait and keep tryin'. You're gonna find yours eventually."

His words seemed to lift her spirits. Encouraged and reassured, she smiled brightly at Victor.

Victor thought she wasn't the same kind of beautiful as her parents, though she looked very much like them. While her parents looked like the stuff of fairytales, the girl looked far less unreachable and far more genuine.

At that moment, a wizened old man appeared from the back of the shop.

"Alright, Miss Anders," said the man. "Try this. Ash and dragon heartstring. Eleven and three quarter inches."

The girl took the wand and waved it around a bit. A slight glow appeared at the wand's tip, but it disappeared so quickly that Victor almost thought he had imagined it. Mr. Fox snatched it out of the girl's hand almost at once.

"Almost, but not quite," said Mr. Fox, and he began flitting around the shelves and taking down boxes.

The girl didn't seem so dejected, despite another failed attempt. She turned to him then, looking a bit hesitant.

"I am Kori Anders," she said.

"Victor Stone," he said to Kori, and they smiled.

* * *

A few days after Victor met Kori, Victor and his parents were at Diagon Alley again. He was on his way to Florean Fortescue's to get ice cream when he heard an odd sound, like someone hitting the side of a building.

_Thwack._

Victor slowed his steps, listening. He knew a scuffle when he heard one –

_Thwack._

– and he knew the sound of someone getting beaten to a pulp too.

He turned the corner, trying to figure out what was going on. The alley was dark and narrow, but he could see three boys, unmistakably older than Victor, standing over someone lying in heaps of trash.

One of the boys, tall and burly, kicked the kid on the ground in the ribs and watched him yelp in pain.

"You just don't give up, do you, Mudblood?" he said.

"Logan just doesn't know when to run away from a fight," said another boy, this one shorter than the first, with more fat than muscle.

The one he called Logan was scrawny and blond, his chest rising and falling like he was catching his breath.

"I'm not scared of you," said Logan, gasping as he tried to push himself to his knees.

The other kids only laughed.

Victor approached them then, trying to look tall and menacing. "Hey, leave the kid alone," he said coolly.

The junior thugs turned around, confused. "What the hell do you want?"

"I'm not a kid," protested Logan, pulling himself to his feet before Victor could answer. Victor tried not to roll his eyes.

"You heard the runt," sneered the second boy. "So scram before we give you a beating like your friend here."

"I say we give it to him. He's obviously asking for one." said the last boy, walking towards Victor.

The boy swung out his left hand, but Victor, his reflexes fast as ever, ducked and brought his own fist tight and low, catching the other boy in the gut. He doubled over, about to swing again, when Victor rammed into him like a charging bull.

And just like that, Victor found himself exchanging blows with two people at once while Logan tried to hold his own against the tallest one in the gang. The fight would have lasted longer if it hadn't been for the shrill voice that sounded from above.

"What's going on down there? Are you boys fighting again?"

Everything seemed to freeze at that moment. Faster than the other boys could react, Victor grabbed Logan's arm and told him to run.

* * *

They sat on the curb, panting. Logan's shirt was torn and dirty, his skinny limbs black and blue. His nose, too big for his thin, angular face, had clearly seen the wrong end of the fight. It was bleeding so much that Victor fished a handkerchief from his pocket.

"Here," said Victor, handing the faded red thing over. Logan took it hesitantly, glancing askance before pressing it gingerly to his nose.

"Thanks for this," said the boy, his pale face down as he kicked a small rock at his feet. "Don't think you're going to want it back though."

Victor shrugged. His entire body felt tired and bruised, like it always did after a fight, and he wasn't sure he was ready to go looking for his parents for a good long while. He poked his split lip and grimaced.

_Mom is going to kill me._

"I'm not even a Muggle-born," mumbled Logan under his breath, breaking the silence.

"You're not?"

The kid almost jumped, surprised that Victor was still there.

"Yeah – I mean no. I'm not Muggle-born. Both my parents are though." He shrugged. "Not that it matters to people like them."

Victor frowned, but didn't say anything. He hated all kinds of bullies, but the ones who looked down on people because of blood status irritated him the most.

"Thanks," said Logan quietly, not looking at him. "No one's ever come to my rescue before."

Victor looked away and cleared his throat. "No problem."

They sat in silence for a while. They didn't even know each other's name, yet the silence between them was comfortable. Victor supposed there were just some things you couldn't share without ending up liking each other, and beating up no-good bullies was one of them.

"But, you know, I could've taught them a thing or two on my own."

Victor scoffed good-naturedly. "'Course you could. How old are ya anyway? Eight?"

Logan's smile fell and he turned to him with a comically incredulous face that made Victor bite back a grin.

"I'm turning eleven! I'm going to Hogwarts this September!"

Victor laughed. "We'll be seein' each other there then," he said casually. "I'm Victor Stone by the way."

"I'm Garfield Logan," the other boy said, holding out his hand.

"_Garfield?_" Victor couldn't help but say even as he took Garfield's hand.

Seriously, who called themselves Garfield?

The other boy smiled sheepishly. "I go by Gar,"

"Gar then," Victor said, nodding. "You by any chance know how to play Mega Monkeys?"

Gar grinned from ear to ear, his eyes shining.

"I think," he said as he tossed an arm around Victor's shoulders, "this is going to be the start of a _beautiful_ friendship."

* * *

Victor knew he belonged in Gryffindor. Maybe that was why he didn't feel nervous at all as he approached the stool in front of the Great Hall.

"Oh, this one's easy."

The low, murmuring voice in his head though – that one, he wasn't expecting.

Victor started, but recovered quickly. _Hello?_ he offered, hoping it sounded more confident that he felt.

"You're very sure you're going to be in Gryffindor," said the hat.

_I don't really care where I go,_ said Victor.

"Oh?" The hat didn't sound surprised. In fact, it sounded amused.

_No one House is better than the others. If you think I don't belong in Gryffindor, I'm not gonna hold it against you._

"Yes, very easy," the hat continued. Victor could hear the smile in its voice. "You'll do well in GRYFFINDOR!"

* * *

Victor was glad when Kori and Gar started sitting with him and Dick at the Gryffindor table.

It wasn't that he minded his Dick's company. It was just that Dick wasn't a very talkative person. Victor wasn't sure what he was expecting, but he hadn't imagined the famous Boy Wonder to be so reserved.

It seemed that the only time Dick became genuinely animated was when Kori would sit with them. He was less aloof, more enthusiastic when she was there, and he listened to her attentively when she talked, even when she was rambling off about some Muggle thing Victor, for the life of him, could never understand why Dick found so absorbing.

Kori, the only Muggle-born in their little group, was able to adapt to the Wizarding world easily enough. She was still in awe about a lot of things, but she took almost everything in stride and only had to have something explained to her once before she could catch on. Usually it was Dick who explained these things to her, and Victor thought it was amusing how the two of them seemed to be caught up in each other when it happened.

Victor wasn't the only one who noticed. Even Gar would tease Dick about Kori, and he and Victor would share the same amused look whenever they found Dick staring at Kor's latest group of friends. But either Dick chose to ignore Victor and Gar's teasing, or he really was oblivious to his behavior around the redhead. It was hard to tell.

Dick wasn't all the bad, really. He wasn't as antisocial as he seemed, just a bit distant, and he grew less distant and more open as the days passed. Victor wouldn't hesitate to call him a friend, but he would be lying if he said he didn't prefer Gar's company.

Gar never sat with his Housemates ever since he first joined Victor and Dick at the Gryffindor table, but Kori's own seating arrangements weren't as simple. Kori sat with someone new almost every day, and while she did make time for them, they found her sitting with a new group more often than with them. It became something of a game, to find where Kori was whenever she wasn't with them in the Great Hall.

Victor was sure, with the rate she was going, Kori would be friends with everyone in the school by the end of the semester. The older Gryffindors had even told him with barely concealed awe that they found her talking with the Bloody Baron. Victor wondered if it explained why even the Slytherins let Kori sit at their table despite her blood status (Kori's presence at the Slytherin table, whenever it happened, always caused a stir among the three other Houses). If Kori could talk with the infamous Slytherin ghost, the girl could probably do anything.

Victor didn't really have a problem with who Kori decided to sit with, but he could tell it bothered Gar that she sat with Rachel Roth at the Ravenclaw table more than she sat with them. Gar never said anything, but Victor was good at reading people. Dick was too, it seemed, since he was the one who first brought it up.

"She can't be that bad," he said when Gar frowned at Kori's new lunch buddy.

"Who?" said Gar.

"The Roth girl."

Gar turned to Victor, as if expecting him to disagree. Victor shrugged. "We have Charms with the Ravenclaws. She's…" he faltered. Victor knew nothing about the resident pariah. "…quiet," he finished lamely.

"Kori likes her," said Dick, like it settled the matter.

"Kori likes everyone," said Gar.

Victor didn't see a problem with it. Frankly, he was glad that Kori seemed to be friends with Rachel Roth. The Ravenclaw was always alone whenever Kori wasn't sitting with her.

It was nearly a month after school started when Victor noticed how things had settled into a nice little routine of their classes, friends, and their little corner of the Gryffindor table, Victor and Gar on one side, Dick and sometimes Kori on the other. Even with her irregular presence at their table, Kori had fallen into a group with the three of them, and they looked forward to having her.

But somehow they felt incomplete. Victor didn't know what it was, but he knew that there was something missing.

It was a month later, after the entire Halloween fiasco, when another person joined them at their spot. And, at last, Victor knew they were complete.

* * *

Next chapter is about Kori. Don't worry – it's already finished.

**Up Next:** In which Kori meets Gar and Victor, may or may not have a crush on the most famous celebrity of the Wizarding world, befriends a Death Eater's daughter, and keeps doing what everyone least expects.


End file.
